Stories My Mama Told Me After She Was Gone

At heartful ballad of love and grief from a daughter to her mother.

The following are true stories from children growing up in a strange and bizarre world under the notorious Nazi Regime during WWII, authentically telling them in their own words and as seen through the "eyes of a child." They constantly feared and wondered about some horrible things they had seen and heard--people being forcefully dragged out of their homes, dreadful screams from someone being beaten to death, lifeless bodies hanging from trees, friends and people they knew disappearing overnight--and were desperate to find out the truth in their own courageous ways as their many curious questions were harshly brushed away with the words "Hush, hush! You have not seen anything, and you do not tell anyone!" Bravely, they endured earth-shattering air raids in dark freezing-cold bunkers and shared the exhilarating joy expressed by every surviving soul. Amazingly, in the middle of chaos, they played happily in the rubble of war. Read about the children's own ingenious humanitarian aid campaigns they created and how their accomplishments were able to bring much-needed relief to many elderly and sick citizens of their small town. Lastly, learn about the children's curious and heart-warming relationships they formed with the soldiers of the Ninetieth Infantry Division of the United States Army in Germany in April 1945. This book is written for the children of "today and tomorrow" to remember the children of "yesterday." Monika Danhof

Farm women of the twentieth-century South have been portrayed as oppressed, worn out, and isolated. Lu Ann Jones tells quite a different story in Mama Learned Us to Work. Building upon evocative oral histories, she encourages us to understand these women as consumers, producers, and agents of economic and cultural change. As consumers, farm women bargained with peddlers at their backdoors. A key business for many farm women was the "butter and egg trade--small-scale dairying and raising chickens. Their earnings provided a crucial margin of economic safety for many families during the 1920s and 1930s and offered women some independence from their men folks. These innovative women showed that poultry production paid off and laid the foundation for the agribusiness poultry industry that emerged after World War II. Jones also examines the relationships between farm women and home demonstration agents and the effect of government-sponsored rural reform. She discusses the professional culture that developed among white agents as they reconciled new and old ideas about women's roles and shows that black agents, despite prejudice, linked their clients to valuable government resources and gave new meanings to traditions of self-help, mutual aid, and racial uplift.

“That Old Man” “‘That old man. That old man.’ Those were the first words out of your mother’s mouth every evening when I dragged through the door from a long hard day in the field. She was so bitter about our life as sharecroppers, and it was tearing the family apart. I worked from sun up to sun down to take care of my family and provide income for my landlord. The white man don’t work us like mules anymore.” Dad talked, leaning over in his recliner. In a few months he would be seventy nine years old. He reminisced about his life experiences as a sharecropper. The old sharecropper’s steps were getting slower by the day. His oversized head was full of gray curly hair and his thick black eyebrows, I knew as a child, were snow white, but as eye-catching as ever. I moved close to him to make sure he could hear me. "Dad," I asked, “Why didn’t you move north and get away from the south? Why didn’t you take us and move away from the cotton fields of Mississippi for a better life?” He looked up at me, flushed, and he slowly began to tell his story: One day I came home and your mother had packed her things and left for Illinois with all of y’all. I should have seen it coming; she has asked me so many times to pack up and go north, but I refused. I knew times were hard and jobs were scarce in the north because everybody was running there to get away from the cotton fields. She wrote me and begged me for weeks to come to Alton. Folks like us with little or no money didn’t have a telephone back then, so we had to write letters. I was farming with an old broke down tractor that would turn over. One day the landlord came to the field to threaten, to curse, and to blame me for the tractor turning over. Even though he knew the tractor was old and worn out, he continued to blame me. Eventually, I gave in and moved to Alton, Illinois, to keep the family together and to get away from the abuse of that old man. I was in Alton for about five months or so with my wife and three girls at that time, living with my brother and his family. I couldn’t find a job for nothing in the world that paid enough money to support my family. It was the mid-fifties and times were hard, even in the North. That was when Eisenhower was President. I had to drop out of school when I was fifteen to work the fields. I only made it to the fifth grade. Besides farming, the only work experience I had back then was working on a logging camp. I made twenty-five to thirty-five dollars a week on the logging camp minus a dollar and fifty cents a day room and board. I had to quit; I was away from my family six days a week! I only saw them on Sunday and my wife was really unhappy about that. Your mother and I argued a lot because money was so scarce when we were in Alton. I wanted our own place for my family; I didn’t like staying with other folks, even though it was my brother and his family. I have always been an independent man and took care of myself and my family. So, after a few months of being in Alton, I moved back to Mississippi by myself. It was in the spring and time to plant the crop. So, I decided to move back and to give it another try. My landlord was glad to see me return, even though he tried to hide his feelings. That happy kind of a look was all over his face. He refused to buy another tractor for me to work the farm. Trying to work the fields with a broke down tractor was hard. My wife was right, “That old man,” she would often exclaim about the landlord. It’s a wonder I didn’t fall dead to the ground. Your mother refused to move back at first. She stayed in Alton for several more weeks. One day I looked up and my wife, Essie Mae, and my girls were walking in the house. She looked at me and said, “I have to keep the family together.” Even though my wife returned on her own will, she was still unhappy; she continued to complain. One evening a truck came through picking up folks for revival. We got on that truck and went to church. Your mother got save

The beloved New York Times bestselling author reflects on home, family, friendships and writing in this deeply personal collection of essays. "The elegance of Patchett’s prose is seductive and inviting: with Patchett as a guide, readers will really get to grips with the power of struggles, failures, and triumphs alike." —Publisher's Weekly “Any story that starts will also end.” As a writer, Ann Patchett knows what the outcome of her fiction will be. Life, however, often takes turns we do not see coming. Patchett ponders this truth in these wise essays that afford a fresh and intimate look into her mind and heart. At the center of These Precious Days is the title essay, a surprising and moving meditation on an unexpected friendship that explores “what it means to be seen, to find someone with whom you can be your best and most complete self.” When Patchett chose an early galley of actor and producer Tom Hanks’ short story collection to read one night before bed, she had no idea that this single choice would be life changing. It would introduce her to a remarkable woman—Tom’s brilliant assistant Sooki—with whom she would form a profound bond that held monumental consequences for them both. A literary alchemist, Patchett plumbs the depths of her experiences to create gold: engaging and moving pieces that are both self-portrait and landscape, each vibrant with emotion and rich in insight. Turning her writer’s eye on her own experiences, she transforms the private into the universal, providing us all a way to look at our own worlds anew, and reminds how fleeting and enigmatic life can be. From the enchantments of Kate DiCamillo’s children’s books (author of The Beatryce Prophecy) to youthful memories of Paris; the cherished life gifts given by her three fathers to the unexpected influence of Charles Schultz’s Snoopy; the expansive vision of Eudora Welty to the importance of knitting, Patchett connects life and art as she illuminates what matters most. Infused with the author’s grace, wit, and warmth, the pieces in These Precious Days resonate deep in the soul, leaving an indelible mark—and demonstrate why Ann Patchett is one of the most celebrated writers of our time.

The author describes her experiences during the Holocaust between the ages of five and nine, in Amsterdam, as a prisoner in the Westerbork and Bergen-Belsen concentration camps, and eventually in the United States.

"A thrill ride into the stark territory between grace and the letter of the law."--Tosca Lee, New York Times bestselling author As part of his regular street performance, a deception specialist who goes by the name The Raven picks his audience's pockets while they watch. It's harmless fun--until he decides to keep the spare wallet a city councilman doesn't seem to miss, hoping for a few extra bucks. When he finds not money but compromising photos of the councilman and his "personal assistants," The Raven hatches a plan to blackmail the man. However, he quickly finds himself in over his head with the Ukrainian Mafia and mired in a life-threatening plot code-named, "Nevermore." Private investigators Trudi Coffey and Samuel Hill must scramble to sort out the clues--and their complicated feelings for each other--to rescue The Raven and save hundreds of lives from a wildcard bent on revenge. Mike Nappa snags readers from the first page of this fast-paced thriller--and he never lets go until the end.

"This is about a society of isolates who all communicate with one another from terminal sites. This is about being disembodied, distanced, distinct, and that sort of boundary-thing. It is not about being present. It is not about being there. It is not about a shared history, or a shared meal, or a shared story, or any kind of mutuality. It is about contact between virtual strangers. . . . It happens when you feel that you are so alone that you need anybody to talk to—anybody at all—because you believe that your connections have failed you. This kind of connection leaves you cold and dead inside, because it lacks history and a language of belonging." In this daring, postmodern autobiography, S. Paige Baty recounts her search for love and community on the Internet. Taking Jack Kerouac’s On the Road as a point of departure, Baty describes both an actual road trip to meet the object of an e-mail romance and the cyber-search for connection that draws so many people into the matrix of the Internet. Writing in a bold, experimental style that freely mixes e-mails, poems, fragments of quotations, and puns into expository text, she convincingly links e-mail trouble with "female trouble" in the displacement of embodied love and accountable human relationships to opaque screens and alienated identities. Her book stands as a vivid feminist critique of our culture’s love affair with technology and its dehumanizing effect on personal relationships.